THE BROKEN FOLD 



THE BROKEN FOLD 



POEMS OF 



tmoxv anir Cjcms0laii0n 



17Ul. 



BY 



ELIZA A. DANA 



IP.IR, I^-j^TEXiY PEI1TTED 




y> NEW YORK: 
ANSON D.F. RANDOLPH, 770 BROADWAY 

1868. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1808, 

By ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the 

Southern District of New York. 



EDWARD O. JENKINS, 

PRINTER AND STEREOTYPE] 

20 North William Street. 



PUBLISHER'S NOTICE. 

The Verses in this Volume were brought to the pub- 
lisher to be printed for private distribution. It seemed 
to him that they might be acceptable to many who have 
had the common experience of suffering, and by per- 
mission a small edition has therefore been published for 
any who may desire to possess them. 



CONTENTS 



The Broken Fold r> 

The Departed % 

The Cypress Vale 10 

The Land that is Far Away 12 

The Last Good-Night 14 

To a Bereaved Daughter 16 

Little Willie 19 

The Morning Watch 23 

He Passed Away 25 

Since Last Yon Setting Sun 27 

A Little While 29 

My Mother 31 

In Memoriam 33 

There was a Hand that Wrought with Mine 49 

To One in Heaven.... 51 

Cloud and Sunshine 54 

Little Gertie 58 

The Lost Lily 60 

The Mother's Charge 62 

My Two Caskets 65 

Little Johnnie 68 

Standing by the River 72 

New Year's Eve 75 

The Last Day of May 76 



iv CONTENTS. 

To Dear Ones Away . 80 

Pine Hill Cemetery 85 

The Desert Journey 03 

"Not in the Vale (»ti 

Repentance 9S 

Through Suffering 100 

The Far-off Home 102 

My Prayer 105 

Sacramental Hymn 100 

" There shall be no more Sea " Ill 

Angels' Ministry. 114 

Resignation lit". 

Time's Pictures 113 

Guardian Spirits 121 

Christ in the Garden 12C 



THE BROKEN FOLD. 



THE BROKEN FOLD. 

THERE'S one of your number gone, 

And mine is a broken fold, 
Gone through the gates of glory's dawn, 

Above these hills so cold. 
While we go down the sorrowful years, 
There's one will never again shed tears, 

One who will never grow old. 

I look on the fading past 

Through the pictures garnered there ; 
Some of them sad and overcast, 

Some of them bright and fair ; 

And one sweet face looks forth on me 

Which never again with yours I'll see, 

Till we meet where the angels are. 
2 (5) 



THE BROKEN FOLD. 

For the household songs ye sung 

I have listened oft in vain ; 
But their blended pathos o'er me hung. 

Like childhood's far refrain ; 
And one sweet voice is in my ear 
That nevermore with yours I'll hear, 

On earth, oh! never again. 

Now dim are the sparkling eyes, 

Faded those cheeks of bloom ; 
The happy smile is in the skies, 

The sad we laid in the tomb ; 
Where the form we loved long, long shall rest 
With meek hands folded on the breast, 

Waiting the summons home. 

Oh ! lost one kind, and true, 

Thy love so oft untold ; 
O'er the faults of friends a glamour threw 

And never grew strange or cold j 
In meek submission like a child, 
In patience tried till undefiled, 

And meet for the upper fold. 



THE BROKEN FOLD. 

And ye who now remain, 

Make strong the bonds of love ; 

Let affliction's fires refine the chain, 
As the bright links go above ; 

Dear ones are watching with loving eyes. 

From beautiful mansions in the skies, 
Till we shall there remove. 

A few more troubled years, 

Of this brief life the sum ; 
And we beyond this vale of tears 

Shall wake in the world to come ; 
Then may our songs rise high and sweet, 
No missing voice, no vacant seat, 
When in our Father's house we meet, 

Our blest eternal home. 



THE BROKEN FOLD. 



THE DEPARTED. 

rpHE departed ! the departed ! 

Oh, can we e'er forget 
The kind, the gentle-hearted, 
Whose earthly sun has set ? 

Oh, no ! their voices haunt us 
In the murmur of the streams, 

And their eyes are beaming on us 
Through the misty veil of dreams. 

Xo more, no more they greet us 
With affection's thrilling tone : 

No more, no more they meet us 
In our pathway sad and lone. 

Ye, who our hearts have cherish'd 
In our pilgrimage below, 

Has the love ye bore us perish'd, 
Like the sunset's golden glow ? 



THE DEPARTED. c 

Say, if ye love us now as then, 
And true love there be blest ? 

If on those shores we meet again, 
And yearning hearts find rest? 

Yet wherefore ask, why should we doubt ? 

" For love can never die ; " 
It is the one eternal thought 

In those blest realms on liisrli. 



10 THE BROKEN FOLD. 



THE CYPRESS YALE. 

TiOWN in the vale where the cypress grows, 

Over many a lowly bed : 
There droops the willow and twines the rose, 

Watered by tears the mourners shed ; 
But Jesus lifted the vale of gloom, 
Letting eternal light on the tomb. 

Sad and sorrowful seems the way 
Trodden by weary -wounded feet ; 

But many there be w T ho smile, and say 

They found its paths grow strangely sweet : 

Leading away to the land of light, 

Upward, afar, and beyond our sight. 

Friends in sorrow, I greet you here, 
Mourning each for the loved and gone ; 

Weeping apart, but with many a tear, 
Falling free for each suffering one ; 

Comfort, friends ! we loved not in vain, 
Trust in the love of the Lamb once slain. 



THE CYPRESS VALE. U 

Strangers are we but never alone, 
One in the form of the Son of God ; 

Walks in our midst, till He roll the stone 
Away from the sepulchre and the sod ; 

Then shall vanish the darkness and gloom, 

And beauty immortal awake from the tomb. 



12 THE BROKEN FOLD. 



T 



THE LAND THAT IS FAR AWAY. 

HOU art gone to the " land that is far away." 
I know thou wilt never return ; 
But thy home is bright and blessed this day, 
While mine is dark and my feet will stray, 

It is sad, and my heart will mourn. 

We know that land doth such beauty wear, 

We could not behold the sight ; 
Thought cannot rise to a region so fair, 
Our souls sink down in celestial air, 

Too dazzling the holy light. 

There's love unfeigned in that beautiful land. 

And beautiful all who are there ; 
They are sons of the King, in his presence they 

stand, 
A crown on each head, a harp in each hand, 

And royal the robes they wear. 



THE LAND TEA T IS FAR A WA Y. \ g 

There's perfect peace in that realm of our King, 

For each one is loyal and true ; 
Their palms and crowns to his feet they bring. 
Glory and honor and power they sing, 

Allelujah! and praise evermore. 

They rest from their labors, their work is done. 

And fullness of joy is theirs ; 
The sin, the sorrow beneath the sun, 
Lost in the glory, the bliss begun, 

To flow through eternal years. 

The clouds of evening seem cold and gray, 

But then will the shadows flee 
With the dream of life, when I wake that day. 
And go to the land that is far away, 

And the King in his beauty see. 



U THE BROKEN FOLD. 



THE LAST GOOD-NIGHT. 

AN the purple bills of even 

Softest shadows seem'd to lie, 
When her farewell look was given 

To the radiant earth and sky, 

Never more to meet her eye. 

Solemn night, — and she is sleeping 
Softly, sweetly, life away ; 

Awful moments ! silent creeping, 
Naught can bind or bid ye stay, — 
We can only weep and pray. 

Speak again ! the loved one waken ! 
We would catch that smile once more, 

That when lonely and forsaken, 
We may con it o'er and o'er, 
Graven on our heart's deep core. 



THE LAST GOOD-NIGHT. 15 

On a Saviour's breast reposing, 

She is crossing Jordan now j 
But, though coldly round her closing. 

And its spray upon her brow, 

Not one wave shall overflow. 

Midnight and the mists enfold her,— 
Oh, but for these tear-dim'd eyes, 

Seems it not we might behold her, 
Waking with a sweet surprise, 

Drop the clay that cannot hold her 
And with white-winged angels rise ? 

Midnight here,— but from the fountains 
Fed by uncreated light, 

Flashes tip the morning mountains 
Where they plume her for the flight, 
Clad in robes of shining white. 



[6 THE BROKEN FOLD. 



TO A BEREAVED DAUGHTER, 

"lyrOURNFUL, sad, and slowly moving, 

Time is passing o'er thee now, 
Rut around are angels loving 
As the moments ceaseless flow. 

Weep, daughter, thine is sorrow, 

Thine is lost forever now. 
Other love some far to-morrow, 

Dim and distant, may bestow. 

Mute those lips which love's own token 
On thy cheek so often prcss'd, 

Hushed in silence deep, unbroken, 
Music that thy childhood blest. 

Closed for aye those eyes in slumber 
That so fondly watched thy way, 

Still'd that heart whose beatings number 
Blessings for thee night and day. 



TO A BEREAVED DAUGHTER. If 

Weep, daughter, tears are fitting, 
All her love thou ne'er mayest know, 

But while angels round are flitting 
Soft and soothing be their flow. 

Still, a mother's love is flowing, 
Like the stream the desert knew, 

Tlio' full many a thorn is growing 
By its side life's journey through. 

But when gushing free from Heaven, 
Where no earthly poisons grow, 

Purer, sweeter, morn and even 
Shall its holy waters flow. 

I could weep thy lot so lonely, 

Darling of a mother's heart, 
Yet, remember, it is only 

For a little that ye part. 

And a love divine is burning 

On an altar in the skies, 
Where thy tears to incense turning 

Soft as summer dew shall rise. 



18 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

Mournfully, and sad, and slowly, 
Morning and evening ebb and flow, 

But around thee angels holy 
Bless thee as they come and go. 



LITTLE WILLIE. 



LITTLE WILLIE. 

OLEEP, dear Willie, sleep, 

Thine is slumber deep, 
Soft and sweet thy rest shall be, 
On " Lone Mountain " by the sea. 
Vainly winds are round thee sweeping. 
Vainly love is o'er thee weeping, 
Thou wilt never wake again, 
In this world of toil and pain. 



Still, and pale, and cold, 
Flowers that form unfold, 
How can aught so lovely die — 
But he lives again on high ; 
This is only Willie's raiment, 
Christ for him made richest payment, 
And the ransom'd spirit rose 
Over death and all its woes. 



20 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

Mother thou must weep, 
Thine is sorrow deep ; 
Oft thine arm shall clasp the air, 
Yearning for the form not there. 
Oft that face will rise before thee, 
And with sad sweet smile implore thee ; 
When thine heart shall almost break, 
Yield thy boy for Christ's dear sake. 



Bat in coming years 
Love shall dry thy tears ; 
One more lamb safe in the fold, 
Here they wander through the wold. 
Couldst thou hear his little story, 
How from glory unto glory 
Jesus leads those tender feet, 
All among the lilies sweet. 



Father I must weep, 

With a sorrow deep. 

Could I bear this stroke alone, 

I would save thy grief, my son. 



LITTLE WILLIE. 2 1 

But a love diviner glowing 

Took him where the fount is flowing • 

O 1 

Though it rend thy heart in twain 
Know 'tis for a glorious 2;ain. 



Peace shall come to thee, 
When by faith you see 
Glimpses opening like the dawn 
O'er the hills where Christ is gone : 
Where hosannas sweet are rinaiuo- 
And the infant choir is singing, 
In that home of light and joy 
Thou shalt find thy blessed boy. 



Thou who reign'st in heaven ! 

So may peace be given, 

When the sorrow cometh sore 

Yearning for their child once more, 

Heal the wound with holy blessing, — 

Love divine beyond expressing, 

Till their little one shall be 

An electric chain to thee. 
3 



22 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

Sleep our darling one 

On the " Mountain Lone," 

'Till thy little form shall be 

Borne across the lonely sea, 

To the land of Mother, Father, — 

To the home where all shall gather, 

There to rest until the day 

Sea and shore shall pass away. 



THE MORNING WATCH. 23 



THE MORNING WATCH. 

TTP the east the day was breaking, 

Dim the taper's waning light. 
When we gathered round the dying 
In the last watch of the night. 

Vain our tears, all vain our anguish, 
Then our feebleness we felt, 

Raising helpless hands to heaven, 
By the dear one where we knelt. 

Gaze upon that form so lovely — 
All that death has left us here, 

Cherub-sweetness, hovering round it, 
Seems a light from yonder sphere. 

Gone, in childhood's dewy morning, 
Gone, ere tears the eye could dim, 

Ere one sparkle from the fountain, 
Burst upon its rosy brim. 



24 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

Like a flower whose leaves are folded, 
Ere the sun with scorching ray 

Steal the honey dew-drop from it, 
Or one tint hath passed away. 

Memory shall embalm each feature 
Lip and cheek and marble brow, 

Death, aye seeks the fairest trophy, 
We may call her angel now. 

Bear away the loved one gently, 
Lay her softly down to rest, 

Summer flowers are blooming round her, 
Summer's sun shines o'er her breast. 

Mourning mother, though she slumbers 
Far from father, home, and thee, 

Ever green the hills around her, 
Ever green our love shall be. 



HE PASSED A WA Y. 



HE PASSED AWAY. 

TJ E passed away to the silent land, 

We shall hear his voice no more, 
But the shadow of a pale white hand 
Seems beckoning from the shore. 

The morning tide of earnest life 
Crested with light came on, 

But while he armed for welcome strife 
His fragile bark went down. 

'Twas well, in early dawning youth, 
When hopes were towering high, 

He listened to the lore of truth, 
Its light was in his eye. 

Oh, ye afflicted, sorely tried ! 

Who watched in sad dismay, 
The rising of the fearful tide 

That bore him far away ; 



2t> TEE BROKEN FOLD. 

Ye saw the darkness and the gloom, 
But not the glorious light, 

Whose halo hovers o'er his tomb 
From lands that know no night. 

Then weep no more for him who died 

Ere battle had begun ; 
Who lives redeemed, and glorified, 
His victory early won. 



SINGE LAST YON SETTING SUN 27 



SINCE LAST YON SETTING SUN. 

^INCE last yon setting sun arose 

Above those hills of green and gold, 
A star has set, whose radiant close 
The years of time will ne'er unfold. 

Fair spirit ! in that glorious sphere 
This is thy birth-day with the blest ; 

This is the last of suffering here, 
The first of an eternal rest. 

Thy waking in a land of light, 
Where clouds and shadows disappear, 

What visions meet thy raptured sight ! 
What music bursts upon thine ear ! 

Sweet were thy songs while here below, 
But sweeter far where thou art gone ; 

Oh, never more a note of woe 

Will sadden their triumphant tona 



28 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

Though here thy path was strewed with flowers, 
Yet, while the dew-drops on them lay, 

Thine eye had caught the fadeless bowers 
That lie beyond the narrow way. 

Toll on, thou solemn-sounding bell ! 

'Tis fitting thou shouldst speak of woe, 
'Tis fitting grief our hearts should swell 

When such as these must from us go. 

Farewell, dear one, now ever blest! 

And blessed shall thy memory be ; 
May we too find that perfect rest 

The pure in heart alone can see. 



A LITTLE WHILE. 29 



A LITTLE WHILE. 



A LITTLE while and yonder sun 

Will set to rise on me no more ; 
Life's journey past, its labor done, 
Its trial, joy, and sorrow o'er. 

What have I done I would recall ? 

What left undone I now can do ? 
That fearful hour I would forestall 

When all my life I must review. 

A little while, and those most dear 
Will fold their hands in lasting sleep j 

Their graves may witness many a tear, 
But they no more will smile or weep. 

Should I behold some loved one lie 

With calm, cold brow and changeless cheek, 

Death's seal upon the loving eye, 

And lips that never more will speak, — 



30 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

How could I bear the weight of grief, 
If look, or thought, or word of mine, 

With pain had marr'd a life so brief, 
Or dimm'd one raj of light divine ? 



MY MOTHER. 31 



MY MOTHER. 

rTIHE golden bowl is broken, 
The silver cord undone, 
And a pilgrim, worn and weary, 
To her long, long home is gone. 

The summer reigns and brings once more 
The day so fraught with fate to me, 

But naught can e'er the light restore 
They bore across the silent sea. 

Again, with funeral march they come, 
The pall, the bier, are in their train ! 

But they bear a weary pilgrim home, 
And break a captive's heavy chain. 

Resting at last with placid brow, 
No more by grief or pain opprest, 

No more for thee to bear or do, 
Thy hands lie folded on thy breast. 



32 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

They laid thee in the silent ground 
To sleep till wakened with the just ; 

Oh, heavy on our hearts the sound 
Of " earth to earth, and dust to dust. ' 

My first, my never failing friend ! 

No love like thine is left to me ; 
The same without a change or end, 

In time as in eternity. 

By Jordan lingering thou clidst stand 
To pierce the dark dread mystery, 

For gleams of yonder shining strand, 
That mortal eye may never see. 

Now thou hast seen that far off land, 
And bowed before its glorious king ; 

While long-lost friends, clasped hand in hand, 
Thy welcome with his praises sing. 



IN MEMO RI AM. 33 



IN MEMORIAM. 

ri ONE forever ! days are passing 
Into weeks of lingering pain, 
This sad truth still deeper tracing 
In my heart, and on my brain. 

From our hearth and home forever, 
Silent o'er the threshold borne, 

From the ties so hard to sever, 
From each fond endearment torn. 

There's another home before me, 
Oft I seem to see thee there, 

With the Saviour smiling o'er thee, 
And my soul is hushed in prayer. 

Then my spirit bending lowly, 
Unto Him my all cloth yield ; 

And the night, so calm and holy, 
Closes round me like a shield. 



34 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

Slowly came the shadow o'er me, 
Darker, deeper, day by day, 

Till the wave that upward bore thee. 
Rose and wrapped us in dismay. 

Heavenly peace was on thy pillow, 
Blessings from those pale lips fell, 

Turning back from death's dark billow, 
With another fond farewell. 

Then away I saw thee drifting, 
Felt thee from my side withdrawn, 

Knew the scene from time was shifting 
In the darkness ere the dawn. 

Here how dark ! but day was breaking 
Over thee on worlds of bliss ; 

When the sleep that knows no waking 
Closed thy weary eyes on this. 



Though we fondly loved when starting 
Side by side through life to go, 

Better love was ours when parting 
Where the unfathomed waters flow. 



IN MEMOBIAM. 35 

Dead, and there is no returning; 

From that undiscovered main ; 
Beacon lights our love is burning 

Dost thou see them ? Are they vain ? 

Oh, how vain is all this anguish, 
Could I call thee from the skies ? 

Could I bear to see thee languish, 
Or the sadness in thine eyes ? 



To the lowly bed they made thee, 
Oft I go to soothe my grief ; 

But I look not where they laid thee, 
For the thoughts that bring relief. 

In the dust that form will perish, 

But the spirit is not there. 
And the love for thee I cherish. 

Soars above— I know not where. 

Somewhere, in those realms of glory, 
Mortal eye hath never seen ; 

Somewhere, dwelling on the story 
How thy robes were washed so clean, 



3G THE BROKEN FOLD. 

Thou art done with sin and sorrow, 

It is mine to suffer on ; 
Mine to hope on some bright morrow 

I may wake where thou art gone. 

I'll not think it sad or lonely, 
With such blessedness in view, 

If I may but enter only 
Those bright gates of glory too. 

I and mine, if we, forgiven, 
May but stand before his face, 

All the eternal years of heaven 
Seem too short for Jesus 7 praise. 



Ere yon pale moon her crescent fills 
Again, I'll bid my home adieu, 

And that green grave among the hills, 
Where oft I wish I slumbered too. 



m MEMO MAM 37 

Oh, changing moon, thy beams were bright 
With glancing wings celestial blent, 

When, on that last sad farewell night, 
The angel watchers came aucl went. 

All darkly thou shalt wane again, 
All glorious yet ascend the skies ; 

How long, how long to wax and wane, 
Ere from the dust that form shall rise ? 

I go, but not as I have been ; 

I miss a hand that clasped my own ; 
A gulf divides the now and then ; 

Henceforth in crowds I go alone. 

No, not alone — for those most dear, 
The kindest, best, are with me still j 

But oh ! forgive, though many a tear 
Should fall, ere love its law fulfilL 



The autumn leaves how fast they fall ; 
The fitful winds are moaning low ; 
4 



38 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

So fall the sere leaves of the soul, 
As from ray home I sadly go. 

Oh, mingled memories, dark and bright, 
Thick as the leaves in Otter's Vale, 

Ye cover all things else from sight, 
And turn these quivering lips so pale. 

"lis meet I slowly should retrace 
The pathway where our lines were cast, 

As, hovering near thy resting place, 
My spirit wanders through the past. 

Through joy and sorrow, hopes and fears, 
And looks and tones that cannot die, 

Fond memories of the overshadowing years, 
So deep, so deep they round me lie. 

For thee thy robes are stainless now, 
Trailing no dead leaves of the past ; 

No aching sorrow clouds thy brow, 
No grief comes sighing on the blast. 



IN MEMORIAM. 39 



' Good-by, old home ! " peace dwell with thee, 
And sunshine linger round thy walls ; 

May love thy guardian spirit be, 
Till in the dust thy ruin falls. 

May the offerings on thine altar laid 
Bring blessings, ne'er to pass away, 

On all beneath thy roof-tree's shade, 
Till childhood's sunny locks are gray. 

Farewell ! with Spring I may return, 
But thou, alas, wilt come no more ; 

And come or go, my heart will yearn 
To see thee in the open door. 

And oh ! farewell that silent home 

Where thou wilt sleep despite my tears. 

Sleep on, beloved, till I come 

To rest with thee till Christ appears. 

And when that glorious morn shall break, 
May we, with all our loved ones rise 



40 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

Forgiven, absolved for Jesus' sake, 
Crowned, and immortal in the skies. 



A wintry robe above thee gleams, 
Whiter than aught save His alone ; 

So pure, so softly shed, it seems 

Some shadow of the Great White Throne. 

Like brooding wings above the nest, 
His shadow shields thee night and day ; 

Secure the precious dust shall rest, 
While the long ages pass away. 

So calmly sleep beneath the sod, 

And thou, blessed spirit, wait on high, 
This mortal too shall rise to God, 
And put on immortality. 



I knelt beside thy grave again ; 

And though my tears fell fast and free. 



ZZV MEMORIAM. 41 

It soothed the weary weight of pain 
That on my heart lay heavily. 

I knew the flowers would come and go, 
Leaves o'er thee fall, and dew-drops weep ; 

That summer's bloom and winter's snow 
Would ne'er disturb thy peaceful sleep. 

But solemn woods, the cloud, the stream, 
And all the scenes dear memories trace, 

These grand old hills still dearer seem, 
For guarding thy last resting-place. 



Poor human love, what shrines it rears, 
With fond memorials overspread ; 

While hearts beat time to falling tears, — 
The measure of life's solemn tread. 

Yet, like the sunshine on the hill, 
While shadows in the valley lay, 

Those silent lips shall teach us still, 
While groping darkly on our way. 



42 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

And these are not the bitter tears 
That hopeless sorrow sheds in vain ; 

A few short days, a few swift years 
Alone, and loved ones meet again. 

Such hopes shall cheer the darkest tide 
That bears me on to that blest shore, 

Love that the grave hath sanctified 
Grows brighter, purer evermore. 



With longings vain I stretch my view 
Through rifted cloud and stiller skies ; 

Above the purple and the blue 

The towers of those blest mansions rise, 

Oh, land of beauty ! land of light ! 

In rays of glory veiled so deep, 
No mortal eye can bear the sight, 

No mortal power the vision keep. 

And if one so unworthy may 
But hope at last that land to see, 



m MEMOMAM. 43 

Welcome the trials of the way 
That leads me on to Heaven and thee. 



The days return, the solemn days 
The last 'twas thine on earth to see ; 

And now through sorrow's mist I gaze 
On all they wrought for thee and me. 

In youth they saw us hand in hand 
Beside the altar pledged for life ; 

And there at last they saw me stand 

When thou wert done with toil and strife. 

They witnessed many a smile and tear, — 
Life given and life recalled again : 

Along their pathway trails the bier, 
But Hope smiled ever on the train. 

One year ago, one little year, 
Together still we journeyed on ; 

We knew that all was changing here, 
But not how near thy sands were run. 



44 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

I did not see the swelling flood, 
I did not hear its swelling roar, 

Till on the very brink we stood — 
Alone, alone I left the shore. 



Oh ! how my heart longs to recall 
Each morn and even as it passed, 

While darkness gathered like a pall, 
And o'er my life its shadow cast. 

Yet, all unseen by other eyes, 

The sign, the sorrow, it was mine ; 

While sunbeams from the upper skies 
Along the pathway seemed to shine, 

A holier light thine eye revealed, — 
It hovered round on lip and brow, 

As love's pure fountain, all unsealed, 
Sent up rich streams to overflow. 

Then came sublime that perfect peace, — 
Life's care dismissed, its robes laid down, 



m MEMORIAM. 45 

With parting breath thy blessings cease, 
Unfinished borne to Jesus' throne. 



Night unto night, and day to day, 

Is numbered o'er since thou wert here ; 

Oh, till thy smile had passed away, 
I never, never knew how dear. 

As bright the sunlit mountain's brow, 
As cool the shadows of the glen ; 

Soft sunsets o'er the landscape flow 
In blended beauty now, as then. 

But the glory of the morn is gone, 

And crimsoned eve comes mournfully ; 

A light is quenched that round me shone,- 
A heart lies cold, once all to me. 

So, when the stately mountain pine 
Lies low in dust before the blast, 

The sun may rise and stars may shine 
On all around as in the past. 



46 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

But the songs that through its branches rung 
No summer splendor can recall, 

And the fragile vine that round it clung, 
Lies torn and bleeding in its fall. 



The autumn crowns the year again, 
A golden haze spreads far and wide, 

Hovering o'er mountain, hill, and glen, 
In solemn grandeur magnified. 

The summer's bloom alone is gone, 
Deep, full the green upon its breast, — 

The richest raiment now put on, 
Ere lying down to final rest. 

So, in the autumn of thy days 

Didst thou in manhood's noblest prime, 
On heights attained from whence to gaze 

O'er loftier hills than those of time. 

Life's journey o'er, its work well done, 
Clasping beloved ones to thy breast, 



IN MEMOBIAM. 47 



Fold up thy robes, thy staff lay down, 
And, calm as leaves fall, sink to rest. 



A monument gleams in the sun, 

That speaks of worth, that tells of woe ; 
It points to heaven, where thou art gone, 

But the shadow falls where'er I go. 

And mine ere long with that will blend ; 

A dark cold river lies between, 
But the stone still points where shadows end 

In glory which no eye hath seen. 



Come glorious Hope, bid Faith arise, 
Till on our path the day shall dawn 

That lights the plains of Paradise, 

Where those we loved and lost are gone. 

Though visions sweet our souls surprise, 
We dare not look toward yonder throne, 

Where incense veils the dazzling skies 
Around the ever-blessed One ; 



18 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

But gaze with quickly beating heart 

Where in our dreams the palm-trees rise, 

And seem in some fair bower apart, 
To catch the gleam of loving eyes, — 

Where haply stands, with clasped hands, 
Some angel whispering, " Cease to mourn. 

The love ye lost, of priceless cost, 
A thousand-fold shall yet return." 

Love, Hope, and Faith, stronger than death. 
Help us to say Amen, Amen, — 

To work and wait the voice that saith, 
" I o ! all is lost and found again." 



THERE WAS A HAND. 49 



THERE WAS A HAND THAT WROUGHT 
WITH MINE. 

rpHERE was a hand that wrought with mine 

To gather up these autumn leaves ; 
Alone I lay them on the shrine 

With those that memory silent weaves. 

There was an eye that lingered long 
And kindly o'er each leaf and spray ; 

Seeking some music in the song, 
Some lasting beauty in the lay. 

There was a smile that cheered me on, 
Which I, alas, no more shall see ; 

And what avails, since thou art gone, 
And all the world seems sad to me ? 

The fairest things we gather here, 
Laid on thy grave, soon fade away ; 

There's no memorial love can rear 
But Time will crumble in decay. 



50 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

But in those green, unfading bowers, 
In the unseen land to which we go, 

No sorrow lies beneath the flowers, 
No treasure under winter's snow. 

There wilt thou take my hand again, 
And lead me through the Eden fields ; 

No more to hope and toil in vain 

For the fading things time only yields. 

Oh, glorious home! I'll look for thee 
Above yon purple, star-lit shore, 

Until the loved ones there I see, 

And dream of them and thee no more. 



TO ONE IN HEAVEN. 51 



TO ONE IN HEAVEN. 

rpHE morn comes o'er the eastern hill, 

Slow, solemn, in sublime array ; 
Low in the west the moon stands still 
To welcome in the New Year's day. 

Behind yon peak the deepening glow 
Tells where the winter's sun will rise, 

Gray shadows melt along the snow 
That in each purple valley lies. 

The scene is glorious, passing fair, 

But Heaven's high day-spring who can tell ? 
Where sun and moon and brightest star 

Are lost in light ineffable. 

Oh, sweet and strange the thoughts that rise 
To thee and thy blest home on high ; 

How green the hills of Paradise ! 
How fair the flowers that never die ! 



52 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

I cannot lay my hand in thine 

With greetings for the glad New Year, 
But I can bow at love's same shrine 

To pledge thee more than ever dear. 

Thine now those grand eternal years, 
Unmarked by tides of human woe ; 

No midnight there with gloomy fears, 
No pale sad lips for morn to show. 

'Tis lonely here, but thou art blest, 
Beyond the gates of toil and pain ; 

Thy feet have entered on their rest 
And could not tread these shores again. 

And I rejoice, though tears may fall, 
O'er every loved one safely there ; 

Not one, not one, would I recall, 

Whose eyes have looked on scenes so fair. 

I do not fear thou wilt forget, 
Nor do I fear thy love will die ; 

On memories fond no sun will set 
In that bright land beyond the sky. 



TO ONE IN HEAVEN. 53 

That love which brightens to the last, 
And stays the parting breath to bless, 

Can ne'er be reckoned in the past, 
Or vanish into nothingness. 

But, dost thou visit scenes once dear ? 

And sometimes walk beside our way ? 
'Twere more to feel thy presence near 

Than, to the lost one, breaking day. 

On mercies from a hand divine 

Went down the last year's setting sun ; 

But many sorrows may be mine, 

Before the New Year's course is run. 

One trial is already past ; 

And twice the year hath closed since then ; 
On thy pale face I looked my last, — 

That parting ne'er can come again. 

And I will sing of mercies still, 

Though judgments come at His command ; 
Righteous and holy is His will ; 

He siniteth with a Father's hand. 
5 



54 THE BROKEN FOLD. 



CLOUD AND SUNSHINE. 

T DREAMED of thee in slumber deep, 
A boon that hath not oft been given ; 
Trembling with joy that must not weep, 

Though sobbing praise and thanks to Heaven. 

Thou wast restored and here once more, 

And God was over all to bless ; 
And all the sorrow gone before 

Had wrought a purer righteousness. 



Past, present, future, all for me 

Seem pointing to one grassy mound ; 

But from it I the cross must see, 
Or darkness deepens all around. 

Life's purpose seems to center there, 

The dark, the bright, the golden threads, 

The woven cloud, or sunshine fair, 
And all that gloom or glory sheds. 



CLOUD AND SUNSHINE. 55 

For me all that hath been remains 
Graven on the tablets of the soul ; 

I cannot wash away the stains, 

I would not 'rase the illumined scroll. 

Along those lines of light I see 

That not for this brief life alone 
Is here begun love's mystery, — 

The brightest earth has seen, save one. 

But some all-wise design moves on 
Even from the cradle to the grave, 

And still in Heaven where Christ looks down 
On this dark world He died to save. 

for the sorrow wrought by sin, 

The darkness felt on all we see ! 
There's nought to shine without, within, 

Save that lone night on Calvary. 



Forever ! yes, forever gone ! 

I know it now, I knew it then ; 
The first thought written on the dawn, 
The last until it come again. 



56 THE BROKEN FOLD: 

Thou sleepest well, thou sleepest long ; 

While years pass slowly o'er thy grave, 
The spring-time came with showers and song, 

The summer golden sunshine gave. 

And winter spread its robe of snow, 

And flowers have blossomed, faded, gone ; 

The breeze may sigh, the wild wind blow, 
And yet thou sleepest, sleepest on. 

Oh ! when I thought on all the past 
Until my heart cried out in pain, 

I knew thy silence would outlast 
Even the agony so vain. 

And when they lay me by thy side, 
No sign or welcome then will come ; 

As well the ocean might divide 
As the dark siljgnce of the tomb. 

Yet, there I sometimes long to go, 
When the sad years before me rise, 

Whose moving tide will ebb and flow 
'Neath the gray gloom of twilight skies . 



CLOUD AND SUNSHINE. 57 

Ah me ! what faithless words are mine, 

Forgetful of the hopes that lie 
Above the hills where mornings shine, 

Beyond the clouds where sunsets die. 

Oh ! how forgetful of the love 

That hedges in the narrow way, 
Lest my unwary feet should rove, 

And never climb to endless day. 

And that through all this thirsty land 
We drank the brook beside the way, 

And while we journeyed hand in hand 
Each morn the manna round us lay. 

And that when clouds hung dark and low 
Sweet mercy-drops fell all around ; 

And oft the lurid lightning's glow 
Revealed how near was holy ground. 

Oh, blessed be the gracious hand 
That led us through the wilderness ; 

And bore thee up on Jordan's strand 
Arrayed in Jesus' righteousness ! 



58 THE BROKEN FOLD. 



LITTLE GERTIE. 

"HEAR little child, thou darling one ! 
How can I words of comfort speak 
To those who claim thee as their own, 

When my poor heart seems like to break ? 

I try to look above the skies, 

But thy dear form will come between ; 
I see those sweet imploring eyes ; 

I see that last, sad, solemn scene. 

Oh. sinful heart — oh, wavering faith ! 

And eyes so prone to look below : 
The loving Saviour, not stern death, 

Enfolds the little darling now. 

Weep, mother, weep ! and look your last 
On that fair bud so sweetly shrined ; 

Fond father, fix that image fast, 

By death's strange beauty so refined. 



LITTLE GERTIE. 59 

Gaze on that face, engrave it well, — 
Those smiling lips, those sleeping eyes ; 

Keep that last look, her long farewell, 
When upward turning to the skies. 

Those little snow-white shining feet, 
Which just had learned to walk below, 

When treading yonder golden street 
Will they not look e'en then as now ? 

Oh, loveliness almost divine ! 

Like infancy in heavenly bowers, 
Just learning little crowns to twine, 

And fall'n asleep amid the flowers. 

Farewell, clear child ! it all is o'er, 
We saw thee from the threshold borne ; 

On thy sweet face we look no more 
Until the resurrection morn . 



60 TEE BROKEN FOLD. 



THE LOST LILY. 

rpHREE precious buds of promise 

Within my garden grew ; 
Morn bathed them in sweet sunshine, 

And eve in purest dew. 
Some new attraction or delight 

Woke with each morning's dawn, 
Till a shadow pale obscured our sight, 

And the Lily bud was gone. 

A strange and fearful presence 

Seemed hovering in the night, 
And when arose the morning 

It dimmed the welcome light. 
There came a trembling through the leaves, 

And the little flower bells rung, 
For He who gathers in the sheaves 

Was present where they hung. 

By the tall tree in the centre 
And those that round it stand, 



THE LOST LILY. 01 

It passed like evening vapors 
From the cold sea o'er the land ; 

By all that in my garden grew 
It crept like fear in sleep, 

Then paused, and o'er the Lily drew 
Its outline dark and deep. 

That shadow on my garden 

Hath left a sadder hue 
Around the lonely Lily ; 

Like tear-drops falls the dew. 
And now for those that still remain 

Love weaves a prayerful bower, 
Lest that pale shadow come again 

And we miss another flower. 

The lost one — how we loved her ! — 

Is with the angels now, 
I cannot trace her beauty, 

There is glory on her brow. 
A morning song-bird upward flown, 

A dew-drop early sped ; 
Her name is on the cold white stone 

That marks her little bed. 



62 THE BROKEN FOLD. 



THE MOTHER'S CHARGE. 

MY Father gave me jewels fair, 

Imbued with living light ; 
He fashioned them with wondrous care, 
His image still, though faint, to bear ; 
And bade me heart and hand prepare 
To keep it clear and bright. 

A casket, wrought most curiously, 

Though of inferior mould, 
Enclosed each gem ; and " these," said He, 
" My temples are, and dear to me, 

More precious far than gold." 

He warned me with unceasing care 

To polish every gem : 
For sin their lustre did impair, 
And He would claim them yet to wear 

On his own diadem. 



THE MOTHERS CHARGE. 63 

This high and holy charge was mine 

Unworthy, weak and frail, 
Nor yet the trust may I resign : 
Lord, every power with love refine, 
And strengthen me by grace divine, 

Lest my poor faith should fail. 

Ye, too, my children, watch must keep, 

For oh, not mine alone 
The fearful risk ; ye too must weep, 
If o'er them ye supinely sleep. 
Nor saddest tears, nor sorrows deep, 

Could e'er for sin atone. 

Oh, never hold these treasures light, 

A price is on them laid ; 
The Tempter watches day and night, 
But ye must seek that Friend aright 

Whose love the debt hath paid. 

Ye may not barter them for gold, 

Nor crowns, nor kingdoms fair ; 
Oh, never has their worth been told ; 
When Time's far years away have rolled, 

Eternity they share. 



64 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

Still fear not, shrink not, from jour trust, 

But to the end endure ; 
Though dim and soiled with native dust, 
Though earthly passions eat like rust, 

There is a perfect cure. 

Ye need not seek old Jordan's stream 

The leprosy to stay, 
Nor go to far Jerusalem ; 
In every land there flows a stream 

To wash each stain away. 

Father in heaven, the gift was thine ; 

Oh, send thy Spirit down, 
To purify and to refine, 
And light them with a ray divine, 

For the Redeemer's crown. 



MY TWO CA8EET8. 65 



MY TWO CASKETS. 

T HA YE two caskets, wrought with care, 
And made most precious things to hold, 

Things that fond memory shall wear 
Instead of gems or finest gold. 

In one, a little form is laid 

Of such pure symmetry and grace, 

No chisel e'er the like portrayed, 
No pencil could such beauty trace. 

Dimples that used to come and go 

From those fair rounded cheeks are gone, 

And eyes so wont with mirth to glow 
Long silken fringes now press down. 

But over lip, and eye, and brow 

Such pure unearthly radiance spread, 

It seemed the soft reflected glow 
Of glory on the spirit shed. 



66 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

The other holds a picture fair, 

Pale faded flowers, a little key, 
Some silken rings of soft brown hair, — 

All of my Gertie left to me. 

An empty crib beside it stands, 

Some tiny shoes, the last she wore — 

Ah me ! to Heaven I lift my hands, 
When waves of sorrow round me roar. 

These treasures mine, I watch with care, 
Though deep the founts of grief they wake 

But when I see them unaware 
I seem to feel my heart-strings break. 

The first is locked for aye and aye, 
The key is mine, that little key, 

Yet, till the great reviving day, 
That treasure I shall never see. 

But oft to that small mound I go, 
For that is her last earthly home ; 

And love to think when spring-flowers grow 
How sweet the lilies there will bloom. 



MY TWO CASKETS. 67 

I know my darling is in Heaven, 

But in that little casket lies 
The beauteous form to me first given, 

And glorious yet it shall arise. 

My buried treasure ! Angels keep 

Thee safe beneath their wings for aye ! 

Safe by thy side I too may sleep 

Till breaks the morn of endless day. 



6 8 THE BROKEN FOLD. 



LITTLE JOHNNIE. 

A GAIN an angel sent from Heaven 
Entered miseen our secret bower ; 
The last year's sun had set at even 

And slumber wrapped the midnight hour. 

When morn awoke the glad New Year, 
A shadow o'er the sunlight spread, 

It hovered rouud the day of cheer 
And sadness on the dark hours shed. 

And ever and anon we thought . 

There came a whisper sad and low, 
With such a fearful meaning fraught, 

No thunder peal could shake us so. 

It said, a precious lamb is here, 
That Jesus calleth to His fold, 

Dark clouds are gathering far and near 
The hills of time are bleak and cold. 



LITTLE JOHNNIE. 69 

Before the storms upon it beat, 

Before temptations lure astray, 
Jesus would lead these tender feet 

Among the lilies far away. 

We knew 'twas He who died to save, 

And though our hearts seemed like to break, 

His love had bought each little grave, 

We bowed and said, for Christ's sweet sake. 

One week beside our precious boy 

Of hope and human agony ; 
And he was gone, our pride, our joy, 

A New Year's gift, Lord, to thee. 

Two caskets, now, the angels keep ; 

By Gertie's side, beneath the snow, 
We laid our darling down to sleep, 

And we have two in heaven now. 

Two little keys, instead of one, 

Eushrined with our most sacred things, 

Fair locks all golden in the sun 

Lie folded by those dark brown rings. 
6 



THE BROKEN FOLD. 

Pale flowers are there, once white as snow, 
With memories, oh, so sad and sweet ! 

Of my clear babes — though angels now 
Mine still, and mine when we shall meet. 

Ye days and hours how long ye seem, 
Since little Johnnie played around ; 

Sometimes 'tis like a fearful dream. 
Sometimes like consecrated ground. 

And so it shall be sacred time — 

The last sad week with one so dear ; 

We stood upon the bounds of time, 
And watched him till he was not here. 

We miss the darling everywhere, 
And when we pass the open door 

Wc miss that gleam of golden hair 
Among the play-things on the floor. 

We cannot lay these toys away, 
We almost look to see thee come 

And scatter them around in play, 

Till gladness once more cheer the room. 



LITTLE JOHNNIE. 71 

Oh, for the sound of those dear feet, 
To fill again our hearts with joy ; 

Oh, for that smile so sunny sweet 
On thy dear face, my gentle boy. 

But Heaven grows brighter, brighter still, 

For all we miss so here below, 
And little feet on Zion's hill 

May run to meet us when we go. 

And Heaven seems near, oh, happy home ! 

7 Tis but a step beyond the stars, 
Dear hands are beckoning us to come, 

Sweet eyes look through the window bars. 

Beloved ones, now gathered there, 
We mourn, but call you not again ; 

That Heaven is all too bright and fair, j 
And earth too sad with sin and pain. 



72 THE BROKEN FOLD. 



STANDING BY THE RIVER. 

T\7"B stood beside the river 

O'er which we all must go, 
Bearing a loved one in our arms, 
Our hearts repeating the alarms 

That came across the river, — 
And saw the sun decline in mist 
That rose until her brow it kiss'd, 

And left it cold as snowl 

Watching by the river. 

With every ebb and flow 
Fond hopes within our hearts would spring, 
Until another warning ring 

Came o'er the fearful river, — 
We saw the flush, the brightness fade, 
The loving lips more grieved and sad, 

The white hands whiter grow. 



STANDING BY THE RIVER. 73 

Watching by the river, 

With anguish none can tell, 
And trembling hands and hearts, we stroye 
To save the darling of our love 

From going down the river ; 
Oh, powerless ! but to weep and pray, 
And grieve for those who far away 

Had said their last farewell. 

Weeping by the river 

There came a blessed time, 
A solemn calm spread all around, 
Making it seem like holy ground 

Beside the silent river ; 
The world receding till our eyes 
Caught gleams from yonder land that lies 

In Canaan's happier clime. 

And there, beside the river, 

Came lessons strange and sweet, 
The perfect work of patience done, 
The warfare finished, victory won 

With weak hands by the river, 
The child-like trust, the clinging love, 



74 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

The darkness brightened from above, 
The peace at Jesus' feet. 

Waiting by the river, 

Through mingled night and day, 
Fond memories round our hearts we hung, 
Of Jesus' love and Heaven we sung 

To soothe her by the river ; 
But oh ! for one whose heart would break, 
Be pitiful for Jesus' sake, 

Our prayer went up alway. 

Standing by the river, 

We closed the weary eyes, 
And laid her down in Jesus' arms, 
Safe evermore from all alarms ; 

He bore her through the river, 

And clothed her in a robe so white — 

> 

Too beautiful for mortal sight — 
He took her to the skies. 



NEW TEARS EVE. 75 



NEW YEAR'S EVE. 

TTNDER the snow, so cold, so low, 

Another dear one lies, 
With pale hands pressed on a marble breast, 

And darkness on her eyes. 
Heavy with sighs and many a tear, 
Thy skirts trail slowly, passing Year, 

Along these lower skies. 

Oh ! the sad years, they come and go, 

Bearing our treasures away ; 
Some smiles adorn each New Year's morn 

We miss on its closing day. 
And some will sleep, while others weep, 
Ere another New Year's dawn shall creep 

Over the hills so gray. 

How can we look in faces bright 

Nor think of eyes that shone, 
Of smiles that filled, and tones that thrilled, 

Our hearts in days now flown ? 



76 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

And nevermore ! oh, nevermore ! 
Will Time beloved ones restore, 
Though the years roll on and on. 

So, sad and sorrowful swells the lay, 

Recounting treasures lost, 
But deeper woe should bend me low 

For the sorrow sin hath cost. 
Ah ! few and weak come the words I seek, 
Though the flush of shame is on my cheek 

For their uncounted host. 

Sorrow and sin, not these alone, 

But of mercies too I'll sing, 
That fresh and new as the falling dew 

Seem'd dropp'd from an angel's wing ; 
For the night of fear there was morning cheer 
Some solace sweet for every tear, 

From the hand whence mercies spring. 

Oh, some are gone, and some remain 

Of those my heart holds dear, 
But those up there are happier far 

Than we in this land of fear. 



NEW YEARS EVE. 77 

Could we behold the scenes unfold. 
Stretching away from the streets of gold, 
We would not wish them here. 

Oh, what meetings in Heaven have been, 

What bless'd ones yet shall be, 
Let home-bound feet with crosses meet, 
Love here and there shall make them sweet, 

Looking, u Christ, to thee : 
Till one by one at the set of sun 
We'll lay us down when our work is done, 

xVnd our Father's house we see. 



78 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

THE LAST DAY OF MAY. 

[FY precious child, forever dear, 



My heart still calls for thee ; 
I dream the spirit land is near, 
Yet know thy voice I shall not hear. 
Thy face I shall not sec. 

But evermore some thrilling strain 

Wafted thy life-path o'er, 
Comes laden with its joy or pain. 
Soon ending in the sad reiram 

Of never, never more. 

So mournfully thy memory sweet, 

So shrined within my breast, 
Where love and sorrow often meet 
And lift again the winding-sheet 
That shrouds thy hallowed rest. 

The clay that gave thee birth is near, 

How shall I hail it now ? 
It was thy presence made it dear, 
But I have seen thee on the bier, 

And kissed thy marble brow. 



THE LAST DAY OF MAY. 79 

The roses in the lap of May 

Will soon burst into bloom ; 
But thou, my rose, art borne away, 
And round thy lovely natal day 

Is twined a wreath of gloom. 

No drooping flower with fragile stem 

In Heaven's high gardens thou, 
Fair in the New Jerusalem 
A royal rose, a polished gem, 

Immortal, radiant now. 

I claim no place of pride for thee 

Among the glorified, 
The pure alone our God shall see, 
Holy and humble all must be 

Before the Lamb who died. 

Till then, a guardian angel prove, 
Watch lest thy dear ones roam, 
Sow light in paths that lead above, 
Turn erring feet to truth and love, 
Till all are safe at home. 



80 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

TO DEAR ONES AWAY. 

VE blessed dead ! safe, safe at last, 

Where sorrow comes no more. 
The storm, the wave, the peril past, 
Within the veil your anchor cast, 
Moored to the heavenly shore. 

I cannot look upon the past 

But some dear face appears, 
That on my pathway sunshine cast 
Till death's cold shadow o'er it passed 

Darkening this vale of tears. 

Pome wearied early in the race, 

Some lingered late and long, 
Now, safe ye tread the sea of glass, 
Or many a shining course may trace, 

Nor falter in your song. 

Your songs that ceased so soon were sweet, 

They haunt me evermore, 
But there ye reign divine, complete, 
No failing voice, no faltering feet, 

No dim eves on that shore. 



TO DEAR ONES AWAY. 81 

Now ye can see, and soar, and sing, 

Through heavenly Paradise ; 
Drinking from life's immortal spring, 
No pain hangs heavy on your wing, 

No sorrow on your eyes. 

Beloved ones, my heart will ache, 

But leaps with rapture too, 
When from some dream of life I wake, 
And almost see the bright clouds break 

And glory shining through. 

Sometimes the Heaven where ye are gone 

Seems high and far away ; 
My soul sinks far below the dawn, 
The first faint line of glory drawn 

Along its confines gray. 

Sometimes those everlasting bars 

Like sunbeams seem to lie ; 
Still nearer than the nearest stars, 
Where we might wander unawares, 

Nor doubt the glory nigh. 



82 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

E'en though the veil is on my sight 

And Heaven I cannot see, 
I know that realm is pure and bright, 
And filled with infinite delight, 
Where Jesus' throne must be. 

With many crowns upon his brow, 

Our Saviour we shall see ; 
Oli, is there aught resembling now 
The crown of thorns that here below 
He wore for you and me ? 

When ye shall lie before his feet 

Adoring, prostrate, low, 
Whisper our names in concert sweet, 
That from beneath the mercy-seat 

Rich streams for us may flow. 

Rapt in the vision of his Grace, 

Ye in his image shine ; 
Till white with gazing on his face 
True love shall deepen every trace 

And glow with light divine. 



TO DEAR ONES AWAY. 83 

How vain the words that would compare 

Aught with that glorious land, 
Whose hills and plains such beauty wear 
Thought cannot picture aught so fair 

Nor heart can understand. 

Those sacred fields and founts and rills 

To us how vague and dim, 
But Jesus' love the region fills, 
His smile with joy each bosom thrills 

And peace and praise supreme. 

Have ye among the bright hills been 

Where grows the living vine ? 
And, shining through its leaves of green, 
The new wine of the kingdom seen 

In Canaan's clusters shine ? 

Oft down those shining battlements 

Do ye not gaze afar ? 
Where, mid our toils and discontents, 
So wearily we pitch our tents, 

And wish we too were there ? 



84 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

Come and be with us while we stay 
In haunts that once were dear, 

By winter's night and summer's day ; 

And when we lift our hands to pray, 
Whisper sweet words of cheer. 

Oh, watch ye for our setting sun, 

And haste ere close of day ; 
Help us to see our last work done, 
Smile on us when the last sands run, 
Then bear our souls away, — 

Away, where beautiful and bright 

Those mansions rise above ; 
Where there's no sorrow, sin, or night, 
But sweet repose and pure delight 
And everlasting: love. 



PINE HILL CEMETERY. 85 



PINE HILL CEMETERY. 

f\ REEN be thy turf, beauteous spring, 

And fair the wreaths thou twinest here ; 
Let morn and eve fresh perfumes bring 
To consecrate a spot so dear. 

For here, the precious forms we laid 
Low in the dust will long remain, 

And earth, and sea, and sky shall fade, 
E'er they arise to life again. 

Here, love and sorrow set their seal, 
While over grief fresh flowers they strow, 

And soothe the wounds they cannot heal 
With marble lips that tell of woe. 

Poor human loVe, alas ! how vain 
With garlands green to hide the bier, 

The wind shall sweep them o'er the plain 
The flowers all dead, the leaves all sere. 

7 



86 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

O'er hill, and valley, and ravine, 
A spirit broods of awe profound, 

Where folded wings and forms unseen, 
Seem watching by the white stones round. 

Watching each lone forsaken shrine, 
Watching where fond love seeks relief, 

The greenwood and the whispering pine 
Low murmuring back their sighs of grief. 

Here oft the funeral train will come, 

Slow winding where the dead are borne, 

O'er tear-dim'd pathways to the tomb 
From whence they never more return. 

Here stricken ones in silence stand, 
Save the low sob or stifled moan, 

The quivering lip, the clasped hand, 

And breaking heart that seems like stone. 

Ah, why upon such anguish dwell ? 

We, too, are pilgrims of a day ; 
A little while, a long farewell, 

And we shall lie as low as they. 



PINE HILL CEMETERY. 87 

Sweet summer flowers, ye fade so soon ; 

Soft summer skies, ye're soon o'ercast ; 
But o'er the highest blaze of noon, 

Above the reach of stormy blast, 

There is a dear and deathless clime 
Decay and darkness never knew — 

These creep along the vales of Time, 
No wind can waft them o'er the blue. 

Oh ! far-off fields, all dewy wet, 

With spray from love's own fountain clear, 
Can children of the earth forget 

The friends they left in sadness here ? 

Though naught can break the pure repose 
Where our Immanuel's throne is set, 

The glory resting on their brows 
Eeflects the land of Calvary yet. 

Now Faith shall set her crystal stairs 
Among the graves of those we mourn ; 

And shall our poor ascending prayers 
Be stayed by sighs for their return ? 



88 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

Oh, could I climb the way they go, 
And view the bliss of friends so dear, 

'Twould dim earth's fondest visions so, 
My heart would break to find them here. 

I'll turn, as one who sees afar 

The forms enshrined in dust below, 

Transfigured in some radiant star, 

With white hands beckoning me to go. 

But I am still a pilgrim here, 
Still is my pathway to the skies 

Beset by sin and crossed by fear, 

And death's dark stream before me lies. 

'Tis well for me, if when at last 
I lay me down, life's journey o'er, 

The Cross may shadow all the past, 
And light the untrodden path before. 



Now, autumn, spread thy glories round, 
Hang golden haze o'er hill and glen, 



PINE HILL CEMETERY. 89 

With bright leaves strew each grassy mound, 
And sing thy farewell songs again. 

Sing mournfully — earth is a tomb ; 

Sing emblems sweet of hope and trust ; 
Sing of the spring-time yet to come, 

For dear ones buried in the dust. 

The voices of the dead are here, 

Giving new pathos to each tone ; 
New harmony to notes that jar, 

And meaning where no vision shone. 

And all is like a seer's dream, 

Lifting the veil of time and sense, 
Till life, and death, and mystery seem 

Blended in love's own providence. 

Beloved, the new names ye bear, 
Engraved on white stones given to you, — 

The shining hills ye climb up there, — 
The blessed work ye have to do, — 

We know not, and ye give no sign ; 
Oh, may not this one mission be, 



90 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

To sow life's path with light divine, 
And give us heavenly sympathy ? 

So I'll believe ; and, if a dream, 

To feel your presence ever near 
Shall make each path of duty seem 

Sweet with immortal love's own cheer. 

And while my spirit, listening, stands 

Where floats the spray from Jordan's shore, 

May hallowed drops from holy hands 
Sprinkle my heart with healing power. 



Wail ! winter's winds, around the dead, 
Yours are the fitting notes of woe ; 

Wail for the light, the beauty fled, 
Far, far above, and we below! 

Wail on ! your wildest, saddest tone 
Can never tell how deep the tide 

Of grief that swept us helpless on, 
E'en to the feet of Him who died. 



PINE HILL CEMETERY. 91 

Oh, port of peace ! Oh, haven blest ! 

The sweetest strains earth ever knew 
Can ne'er express how calm the breast, 

Resigning all, with Christ in view. 

Cease, moaning wind ! why should I weep ? 

Peace be around this sacred dust, 
Till from the grave's long winter sleep 

Immortal spring shall wake the just. 

For each a narrow house remains ; 

We'll follow soon, with you to sleep 
Till Death, in these his sad domains, 

Shall countless treasure-chambers keep. 

On sunny slopes they calmly rest, 
Or shadowed by the bending trees, 

The turf, the snow-wreath on their breast, 
Their dirge the wild wind or the breeze. 

Some on the lonely hill-top lie, 

And the tall, dark pines that o'er them wave 
Wrestle against a stormy sky, 

And sing sad requiems o'er their grave. 



92 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

But, till our Heavenly Father's will, 
Nor storm nor tempest shall prevail 

To wake the sleepers on the hill, 
Or those within the peaceful vale. 

Amen ! Thy holy will be done : 
Time's solemn years shall roll away 

The last fires fail that feed the sun, 
The last night melt in endless day. 



THE DESERT JOURNEY. 93 



THE DESERT JOURNEY. 

WHERE high the morning glories hung, 
" And on our heads their shadows flung, 
While music through the wild-wood rung, 
We started long ago. 

Ah, well ! the flowers were folded soon, 
The songs grew faint before the noon, 
But still we hear the brooklet's tune, 

When fair the breezes blow. 

Oh ! fellow-trav'lers of a day, 
Let us not weary by the way, 
So short the time for us to stay, 

So much is to be done. 

Come, help the weak, ye who are strong ; 
Come, gather flowers to strew along ; 
Or even sing a wayside song 

With me, e'er set of sun. 



94 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

The palm trees and the cooling stream 
Painted^on many a waking dream, 
More precious, more refreshing seem, 

For arid wastes now past. 

So, when our pilgrimage is o'er, 

And we have crossed to Canaan's shore, 

The pains, the perils gone before, 

Will sweeten all at last. 

Though passing through a desert land, 
O'er rocky steep or burning sand, 
Our resting-place is near at hand, 

Its shade we almost see. 

A few more weary marches now, 
A few more stubborn foes to bow, 
Then wipe the last drops from our brow, 

And sweet our sleep shall be. 

We may not stand on Pisgah's height, 
And see our Canaan clothed in light, 
But faith gives more than mortal sight 
Along this border land. 



THE DESERT JOURNEY. 95 

Some altar by a Bethel dream, 
Some sunken stones 'mid Jordan's stream, 
Our way-marks till the light shall gleam 
Along the shining strand. 

Then onward press, through good and ill, 
Intent to do our Father's will ; 
Or, if He bids us, to be still, 

And wait for his command. 

Oh, Jesus, Saviour ! be thou near, 
And bear us up through mortal fear, 
Until the pearly gates appear, 

And we in Zion stand. 



THE BROKEN FOLD. 



NOT IN THE VALE. 

rpHOUGH in the flowery meadows 

No pilgrim long should stray, 
In the gloomy vale of shadows 
Life should not pass away : 

Where the clouds so thickly gather, 
And so soon the daylight dies, 

That we cannot see our Father 
Smiling on us from the skies. 

Up, pilgrim, to the mountains ; 

If you pant for purer air, 
If you thirst for sweeter fountains, 

They are nearer heaven there. 

Does the rugged path appal thee, 
Leading upward out of sight ? 

Oh, no evil can befall thee 
In that pure celestial light. 



NOT IN THE VALE. 97 

And there, when comes the even, 
They who climb so near the sky, 

Fall asleep and wake in heaven, 
When they lay them down to die. 



98 THE BROKEN FOLD. 



REPENTANCE. 

A LAMB of Gocl ! for sinners slain, 
^ To thy dear Cross I flee ; 
Let not the sacrifice he vain 
Offered on Calvary. 

On sin's dark mountains long I strayed, 
Seeking some earthly good ; 

Though turning often, sore dismayed, 
To be so far from God. 

So long, so far, thou followedst me, 
With love so strange and sweet, 

Until I could but stop and see 
Thy bleeding hands and feet. 

Then let my heart in sorrow break 

For all my guilt and sin ; 
Thou, Christ, didst suffer for my sake, 

That I a crown might win. 



REPENTANCE. 



Oh ! love immortal, and divine, — 

Redeeming, dying love ! 
Wilt thou yet teach these lips of mine 

The song they sing above ? 



100 THE BROKEN FOLD. 



\ 

THROUGH SUFFERING. 



"DEHOLD yon pathway to the skies, 

Poor pilgrim of a stormy day ! 
Through sorrows dark and deep it lies, 
Bleak are the hills that round it rise, 
But blessed is the way. 



Not where the flowers spring fair and free, 

And smooth and easy the ascent ; 
Narrow and strait the path must be, — 
The pilgrim's staff and scrip for thee, — 
For thee the pilgrim's tent. 

And is it much that we who sow 

Should taste the bitter fruits of sin ? 
He drank the dreadful cup of woe, 
That we its depths might never know, 
And life eternal win. 



THROUGH SUFFERING. 101 

Oh, followers of the Lamb that died, 
Even so must ye perfection gain ; 
Through suffering tried and purified, 
Till, perfect as your glorious Guide, 
At last with Him ye reign. 



102 THE BROKEN FOLD. 



THE FAR-OFF HOME. 

TjOWN the hill of life descending, 

I am looking for my home ; 
Where the narrow path is tending, 
Light with shadow softly blending 
Seems to beckon me to come. 

O'er the hills and mountains hoary 
Lies the home I look for now, — 
hi the land of sacred story, 
Where Immanuel reigns in glory, 
Many crowns upon his brow. 

Jordan's stream is near me flowing, 
Deep its wave, and deadly cold ; 
Yet unto its brink I'm going : 
Oh, it needs the light that's glowing 
O'er that city paved with gold. 



THE FAR-OFF HOME. 103 

Clouds and shadows rise around rne, 

But through all the Cross I see ; 
And the love of Him that found me, 
And, from many a chain that bound me, 
With his bleeding hands set free. 

Dear the home that earth has given, — 

Sweetly echoes its refrain ; 
But in time its bonds are riven ; 
Till we all go home to heaven 

We'll ne'er sing its songs again. 

Shall I mourn for days departed, 

Failing streams, and fountains dry ? 
Oh, the true and loving-hearted, — 
Oh, the hopes by heaven imparted, — 
Gathering in a home on high ! 

No : the path is not so cheerless, 

Thousand blessings still are mine ; 
Though my eyes may not be tearless, 
Let my heart be firm and fearless, 
Following yonder light divine. 



104 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

Only weary, not affrighted • 

Calm, but earnest, let me be,— 
Like the traveler benighted, 
Looking for the window lighted, 
Shining o'er the waste for mo. 

Blessed Jesus ! Thou hast spoken 

Words to cheer the darksome vale ; 
Oh, still grant me some sweet token, 
When each earthly staff is broken, 
And my flesh and heart shall fail. 



MY PRATER. ' 105 



MY PRAYER. 



T?ATHER, my day is nearly spent, 

My sun is in the west, 
Forgive the follies I lament, 
Soon I must pitch my pilgrim tent 

And seek my final rest. 
Oh, may thy peace with me abide, 
Let there be light at eventide, 

And hope a hallowed guest. 

I thank thee for the pleasant streams 

That sang beside my way, 
And when I look on faded dreams, 
I bless the hand that marr'd my schemes- 

Which would have led astray, — 
And made me lift my longing eyes 
To fairer fields above the skies, 

And there my treasures lay. 

Father, I'm but a wayward child, — 
Though many years have pass'd, — 



106 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

This world is still a tangled wild, 
Still I am easily beguiled, 

And shall be to the last. 
Oh, make me wise to understand, 
And ever heed thy guiding hand, 

For night is coming fast. 

Give me the strength to overcome 

Temptation's thousand snares, 
Lest from the path of peace I roam, 
Or mid the sweet restraints of home 

I stumble unawares, 
And fill with tears some loving eye, 
Or even my Master should deny, 
Who all my sorrow shares. 

Give me the love that never fails, 

And seeketk not its own : 
Enduring long whatever assails, 
Like thine, Christ! that still prevails, 

And doth for sin atone. 
Oh, that some lowly work may be 
My cup of water given for thee, 

To some poor suffering one. 



MY PRAYER. 107 

Teach me to bear my cross each day, 

And meekly imitate 
The Holy One, who came to lay 
His life down for a living way 

To enter Heaven's gate. 
Eternal Priest within the vail ! 
Whene'er to bear my cross I fail, 

Point me to thine so great. 

When sorrow, suffering, and loss, 

Come surging like the sea, 
Even while upon the waves I toss, 
Man of sorrows on the cross ! 

I'll turn and look on thee. 
And how, oh, how can I complain ! 
When I behold the crimson stain 

That sealed my pardon free ! 

When trials sharp around me rise, 

And mist veils all the air, 
Oh, take the dimness from mine eyes, 
Show where the path of duty lies, 

Or lead me passive there ; 
Then though my cry for light may be 



108 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

I'll trust thee when I cannot see, 
Safe in thy tender care. 

So, Father, let me close life's day, 

My wants by thee supplied ; 
So serve, so suffer, and obey, — 
My sins forgiven and washed away 

In Calvary's cleansing tide, — 
While a sweet sense of pardoning love 
By faith shines round me from above, 
And I am justified. 

And when the dark waves near me roll,- 

Help me, without a fear, 
In patience to possess my soul, 
Seeing the brightness of the goal — 

The land without a tear ; 
Then, may I calmly sink to rest, 
To wake forever ever blest 

With all my soul holds dear. 



SACRAMENTAL HYMN. 109 



SACRAMENTAL HYMN. 



HOME and worship our Redeemer 

At the table of his love ; 
Come and taste, in earthly temples, 
Of the feast in that above. 



Here, in little groups, we gather, 
Garments soiled and hands defiled. 

But we do remember Jesus, 
And implore his mercy mild. 

There, a host no man can number, 
Harps in hand and raiment white, 

Bow before the risen Saviour, 
Crowned with majesty and might. 

Some are there who trod the desert, 
Some who by the Cross did stand, 

Saints and martyrs of all ages, 
With a glorious infant band. 



110 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

Here, with faint and trembling voices, 
Feeble songs to Him we raise ; 

There, a shout of .glory ! glory ! 

Fills high heaven with Jesus 7 praise. 



THERE SHALL BE NO MORE SEA." Ill 



"THERE SHALL BE NO MORE SEA." 

Kevelation xxi. 1. 

VE tell me of a lovely land,* 
By storied fame unsung, 
Where rivers roll o'er golden sand. 
And forests sway'd by breezes bland 
"With garlands gay are hung. 

Ye say that all is bright and fair 

As earth and sky can be ; 
But mournful seems its beauty rare, 
For lov'd ones from our home are there, 
Between us rolls the sea. 

Those skies may be of deeper blue. 

The stars may brighter shine ; 
But they will wear a sadder hue 
When fondly ye the past review, 

Alone, at memory's shrine. 

* California. 



12 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

And what is all tins bright array 

Or golden dust to me ? 
The sunshine of the heart must pay, 
While those I love are far away, — 

Between us rolls the sea. 

But oh, there is a land not far, 

Though veil'd from human sight, 

Whose glory time shall never mar ; 

Nor setting sun, nor rising star, 
Shall tell of coming night. 

Those fields are green, forever fair, 

And life's all-healing tree 
Scatters its leaves upon the air, 
Though some we love are gathered there, 
Between us rolls no sea. 

A little space, a narrow stream. 

Alone between us lies ; 
The mist shall vanish like a dream, 
That makes the shore so distant seem, 

And veils them from our eyes. 



' THERE SHALL BE NO MORE SEA." 113 

There parting tears shall never flow, 

Nor sin nor sorrow be ; 
No storm nor tempest shall we know 
In " that bright world to which we go," — 

" And there is no more sea." 



114 THE B HO KEN FOLD. 



ANGELS' MINISTRY. 

nnlME hath been when angels holy 
■^ Walked among the sons of men, 
Cheering on tlue pure and lowly, 
Calling wanderers back again. 

Not in bowers of Eden only. 

Folded they their shining wings, 

In those pathways sweet and lonely 
To commune of wondrous things. 

Childhood, youth, and patriarch hoary, 
Oft their aid and guidance won ; 

And when marshal'd Israel's glory, 
'Twas an angel led them on. 

All along the olden ages 

They have ministered to man ; 

And, when closed the sacred pages, 
Onward still their mission ran. 



ANGELS' MINISTRY. 115 

Is our world more dark and dreary ? 

Are we farther off from God ? 
Or are angel wings grown weary, 

Till they drooped along the road ? 

No : our world is growing glorious ; 

God and heaven seem nearer now, 
Since Immanuel victorious 

Left his footprints here below. 

Though unseen, they round us hover. 
Each lone wanderer to restore ; 

Still intent to serve Him ever, 
Here they fold their wings no more. 

All that's true and good befriended, 

Evil cured or overcome, 
Till, with joy, their mission ended, 

They convey the ransomed home. 



116 THE BROKEN FOLD. 



RESIGNATION 



T\OWN in the valley of shade and gloom 

A weary one paused to rest, 
Behind were trials, before him the tomb, 

But peace his soul possessed, 
His thoughts were roaming the fields above 
His heart was singing of Jesus 7 love. 

His form was bent, his locks were gray, 

And a staff was in his hand ; 
But his failing feet had won their way 

Almost to the fatherland ; 
Seeming to see it with eyes so dim, 
His heart was singing an angel's hymn. 

Clouds and darkness were round him now 

And suffering ever nigh, 
But a light oft hovered round his brow 

That came from the upper sky ; 
His heart seemed singing away betimes, 
Beating in tune with heavenly chimes. 



RESIGNATION. | 1 

The world for gold had given him dross 
And sins had weighed him down, 

But over against them stood the cross, 
Above bung the shining crown ; 

And his heart was singing the story old 

Of the cross that won the crown of gold. 

Thorny had been his way I ween, 
For his feet were wounded sore : 

Many a sorrow his eye had seen, — 
Many a scar he bore ; 

But joy and sorrow blending at last, 

His heart sung only of mercies past. 

Nearer still nearer the stream of death, 
Where heart and flesh may fail ; 

But the everlasting arms beneath 
Were strong and must prevail. 

Singing still singing of Jesus 7 love 

The angels bore him to realms above. 



118 THE BROKEN FOLD. 



TIME'S PICTURES. 

u THOU hast rifled all my loveliness/' 
Said the Spring-time to the Year, 
When the leaden skies hung darkly 

O'er the landscape sad and sere. 
" Green-wood and garden once were fair 

Moorland and meadow gay ; 
Now hill and vale alike are bare 

And dim, and cold and gray. 

" Oh, where are all my treasures, 

They were countless as the stars, 
And beauteous as the morning 

Looking through its golden bars. 
Flowers opened on a thousand hills, 

And leaves on every bough, 
Where is the music of the rills ? 

Where are my blossoms now ?" 

" Thou hast borne away my beauty/' 
Said the Summer to the Year, — 



TIME'S PICTURES. 119 

" The evening's purple splendor, 

The morning's dew}*- cheer. 
The lily and the rose are fled, 

And all the flowers I know. — 
Oh, where is now their fragrance shed 

That I too there may go ? 

" Where is the golden sunshine 

That burnished leaf and spray ? 
The rapture and the beauty 

That sprung along my way ? 
The music from the grove is gone, 

The laughter from the stream, 
Through leafless woods the wild-winds moan 

O'er summer's faded dream." 

" Thou hast robbed me of my splendor," 

Said the Autumn to the Year, 
" Was all my glory given 

To spread o'er nature's bier ? 
In dust my gorgeous garments lie, 

Dust covers field and plain, — 
Is all earth's goodliness to die 

And turn to dust again ? 



1.20 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

Then spoke the old Year kindly, 

And shook his locks of snow, 
" Time's fairest scenes are transient, 

Years come, and years must go. 
But He who bids the mountains stand, 

And clothes the sun with power. 
Tlolletli the seasons from his hand, 

And fills with good each hour. 

,; Fair fragments of lost Eden, 

Away to that on high ! 
Where the beautiful is fadeless, 

And the lovely cannot die. 
Upon immortal souls impressed 

The scenes of earth shall be, 
Like pictures in those mansions blest 

Of Time's eternity." 






GUARDIAN SPIRITS. 121 



GUARDIAN SPIRITS. 



" Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister to them that 
shall be heirs of salvation ?" — Hebrews, i. 14. 



TVO ) r e come in the hush of the twilight hour, 

When the fire in the west grows dim, 
Your footsteps thrilling our heart-strings o'er 
Like some floating angel-hymn ? 

When the moonbeam silvers the frosted pane, 
When the night and the morning meet ? 

Or the eaves are dripping with summer rain. 
And the clover-bells are sweet ? 

But come with the light of the spirit-land, 
Wherever Time's shadow descends ; 

It is blessed to lean on the unseen hand 
Our Heavenly Father sends. 

Come with sweet thoughts from the world above, 
Where Christ and the holy ones arc : 

Oh, whisper some message from those we love ! 
Do they not remember us there ? 



122 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

Could we catch one gleam of your shining hair. 

One look in your sad, sweet eyes ! 
But we never may gaze on vision so fair 

Till beyond the dark river we rise. 

" By your pillow at night, and your footsteps by day. 
We watch you through good and through ill ; 
In the dark hour of danger sow light in your way. 
To shine on the narrow path still. 

" In joy and in sorrow, in weal and in woe, 
On the desert, the mountain, the wave, 
In your wanderings wide, wherever you go, 
From the cradle-bed on to the grave. 

" So lovingly, tenderly, still by your side, 
It is ours his love to express, 
Who so loved the world that for sinners He died. 
And his wounded hands ever would bless. 

" In this dark world of sin ye may see no gleams 
Of our bright forms and radiant wings ; 
Too fearful and sad earth's mystery seems 
Too deep is the shadow it flings. 



CHRIST IN THE GARDEN. 123 

We're watchers till time and eternity meet, 
1 We know not the day nor the hour ;' 

But the dark shall be light at the judgment-seat, 
And evil triumphant no more." 



CHRIST IN THK GARDEN. 

" pOULD ye not watch with me one hour? " 

The suffering Saviour said 
To his disciples, when the power 
Of darkness bowed his head, 

Oh, heavy hearts and weary eyes 

With sorrow sore oppress'd ; 
Again the pitying Saviour cries 

li Sleep on, and take your rest.'' 

" Rise, watch and pray," the foe is nigh, 

The powers of hell assail ; 
Watch, lest your Master ye deny ; 

Pray, lest your faith should fail. 



J 24 THE BROKEN FOLD. 

That little band of followers true 
Grew strong the cross beside ; 

Still are the faithful weak and few, 
And still they must be tried. 

And ye disciples of the Lord 

Who now on earth remain, 
Watch ye and pray, is still the word, 

Till He shall come again. 

They loved Him then, we love Him now 

But oh, the flesh is weak, 
Temptations may the firmest bow ; 

We, too, the cross must seek. 

That midnight watch we may not share, 

The mighty work is done. 
But there is need for watchful prayer, 

To meet some cross unknown. 

Jesus thy love in all we see. 

And oft we hear thee say. 
Can ye not watch one hour with me, 

While I your ransom pay ? 



